


Pumpkin Pie

by rudbeckia



Series: candyfloss marshmallow fluff [2]
Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Angst and Feels, Fluff, Huxloween, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-08
Updated: 2017-10-08
Packaged: 2019-01-08 17:34:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,559
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12258918
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rudbeckia/pseuds/rudbeckia
Summary: Huxloween day 8 - Fall SnugglesArmitage is getting ready for Ben to come home. Ben doesn’t have time to wait.





	Pumpkin Pie

Rain lashed the panes of the bay window and wind rattled the frame like dry bones in a box. Armitage looked out through glass that distorted the orange glow of the streetlights and watched water coursing down the road, an inches-deep rushing stream that would vanish as suddenly as it had appeared, draining into the lazy river downhill from their steeply inclined street.

He smiled at the memory of Ben cursing the hill every time they walked home from classes together in the year after they’d scrimped and saved to put down ten percent on this rickety old place.

Draughts gusted through cracks and gaps then whirled around to moan and whistle over the chimney pot high above. Armitage shivered at last, closed the heavy curtains and turned away.

He checked the time. Ben would be home soon, and Armitage would be ready.

First, the lanterns. He worried that they wouldn’t stay lit in the storm, but he’d carefully carved the pumpkins just right, peeling and scraping away the tough outer layer to leave patterns of pale, translucent flesh as a guard against the wind. The only opening was a hole for the candle-heated air to rise up and out and not scorch the inside of the lid. Armitage lit each one indoors then propped the heavy front door open and set his face against the rain to go place them on the steps: one against each of the black, wrought-iron uprights that plunged deep into the grey stone of each tread, worn and bowed with a century and a half or more of footsteps. He shrugged his head down into his shoulders, hugged thin arms around his chest and trotted down to look at the display from the uneven pavement.

The flickering faces of the pumpkins looked comforting, A warm welcome.

Now for indoors. Armitage closed the front door and locked it, then scurried upstairs. He stripped, leaving a pile of rain-soaked clothes on the bedroom floor, and darted into the bathroom. He waited for hot water to reach the shower from the tank in the rafters, laughing for a second at the time he and Ben had worked out that they would use less electricity if they showered and bathed together. He realised with a pang that he’d forgotten whose idea it was, who’d jokingly said on opening their first electricity bill, _”I bet we’d save a fortune if...”_ and who’d said, _”You might be right. We should try that.”_

A shower. There was not time for luxuriating in the bath.

Dressed in clean pyjamas, Darth Vader slippers that were a gift from Ben, and his bathrobe, Armitage padded back to the living room. A peek out of the window showed that his lanterns all shone in the dark to light Ben’s way when he arrived. The ageing central heating pipework shuddered and creaked as it fought the damp chill in the air. Armitage fetched his favourite candles and arranged them carefully in the fireplace and on the tiled hearth. One time in that first Autumn they’d actually tried lighting the fire but the chimney was stuffed full of old newspapers and goodness only knew what else, had been for decades, in an effort to keep out the elements. Nobody burned coal any more, but Ben said he wanted the fireplace opened up and logs crackling in the grate. Armitage smiled. Maybe next October there would be a cheerful log fire in a woodburner to light the room with dancing flames. For Ben.

He’d definitely suggest it. Perhaps Ben had forgotten.

Next, the wine and food. Armitage checked his phone and it was almost time. Nine o’clock. He brought a bottle of Rioja from the kitchen with two glasses and put the pizza in the oven. Twelve minutes at 220C. Perfect. He started the tumble dryer: five minutes on hot.

A key scraped in the lock and boots scuffed the floor. Heart lurching, Armitage cried out and smiled and jogged through to the hallway where Ben cursed the hill, cursed the weather and shivered. He smiled at Armitage.  
“Babe! You look so warm. C’mere.” Armitage let himself be pulled into a cold and damp embrace. “Mmhmm, you’re my pumpkin spice latte. My gingerbread man. My toffee a—“  
“Your ex-husband if you don’t shut the fuck up.” Armitage pushed away from Ben, but cupped his jaw and leaned in for a lingering kiss. “Mmm. Better. Come and get warm. Dinner’s ready.”  
“Pizza?”  
Armitage laughed at Ben’s hopeful grin. “Of course, my love. C’mon, boots off, coat off, anything else you want to take off is fine by me. Come through to the kitchen - I put your sweats in the dryer to warm them up.”

Ben stripped and dressed, sighing in pleasure at the soft warmth of brushed cotton on his skin. He left his outdoor clothes on the kitchen floor and Armitage stepped over them, carrying an oven tray in his mittened hands.  
“Oh leave those for later. Come and eat.” Armitage smiled and showed Ben the double pepperoni and jalapeño pizza, cheese browned and still bubbling in places. “I picked a movie. Is that okay?”  
“Yes!” Ben smiled and followed. “This is the best welcome home _ever._ I have no idea what I did to deserve it, but thanks. You know I love you, babe?”  
“Yes,” replied Armitage without looking back. “I know. I love you too. So much that I miss you when you’re gone.”  
“Aww babe,” Ben laughed and flopped onto his space on the squidgy sofa. “I was only at work! Sorry I had to pull a twelve hour shift. You know how it gets sometimes.”  
“Mmm,” Armitage busied himself with serving pizza and did not look round. Ben poured two glasses of wine and put on Netflix.

It was perfect. The pizza was just right once the palate-searing heat had dissipated. The second bottle of wine put them into a quiet mood and the film wove skilfully between endearing emotionality and pathos. Ben raised his arm and angled himself into the corner of the sofa. Armitage snuggled in, feet tucked up, head on Ben’s broad shoulder and arms around Ben’s waist.

Armitage did not allow himself the luxury of tears until he was sure Ben was asleep, and then only for a single minute. There would be plenty of time for that after midnight.

Movie over, Ben clicked the TV off, stroked Armitage’s hair and kissed his head. He sighed and spoke softly.  
“I’m sorry babe.”  
“What for?” asked Armitage, twisting his head up to see Ben’s deep brown eyes look into his pale blue. Candlelight flickered and reflected from Ben’s eyes and his smile echoed the sadness in his voice.  
“I know. I know what I am. I know what this is. I made a mistake that night and I couldn’t come home to you. I hope I’m making it up to you.”  
“I know you know, you know.” Armitage smiled back and reached a hand up to stroke Ben’s cheek. “You always forget, honey, but I don’t. You do make it up to me, every Halloween, although there’s no need. I understand. I was so angry with you for so long the first time. Months! But then you showed up that first anniversary as if it was the day you’d died but you’d come home to me anyway. Love, it’s the highlight of my year.” Armitage smiled and meant it despite the tears he could not keep hidden. “What do you... what happens? I mean, in between?”  
“I... I don’t know. This... this could all have been yesterday or the day before or the day before that. It’s all a jumble with grey between, like nothing only stretched thin. When I’m here, when it’s almost time to go, I remember. There was horrible pumpkin pie one time. I remember...” Ben grinned. “That was a good night.”  
“Hahaha, yes, that was the second time. Twenty-fourteen. I hoped I’d made up for it.” Armitage leered at Ben. “I’d never blown a ghost to compensate for terrible pudding before then.”

Ben laughed, then hiccupped. “Sweetheart, this day is all I have. And... and...” Ben paused, other hand over his eyes, voice rising in pitch. “And thank you for always making it so good!” He composed himself and smiled, eyes shining with tears. “I love you.”  
“I know,” said Armitage with a smile. “That’s why I want tonight always to be special. It’s all I have too.”

Ben checked the time on Armitage’s phone. It was not _time_ yet, but Ben felt the dread of midnight anyway. Armitage snuggled closer.  
“Look, this might be the last thing on your mind, but it’s been a _year_ and...”  
Ben laughed and wiped his face. He checked the time again, wriggled down and around to lie facing Armitage on the sofa.  
“Fuck, Armitage it has been on my mind half the evening.” Ben grinned. “Giving me a good send off?”  
“Well then,” replied Armitage with a smirk. “Got to make you want to come back next Halloween, and give myself something to think about! I have three hundred and sixty four days to fantasise about the next time I will see my husband in the flesh. Sort of.”  
“In that case,” said Ben with a giggle, hand slipping inside Armitage’s robe, “Lie back and think of pumpkin pie.”


End file.
